Holes in His Memory
by stingrae90
Summary: It wasn't until the first day Martin was allowed out of bed that they noticed it. There were holes in the warrior mouse's memory.


**A/N:** As promised on my homepage, the one-shot dealing with how it was discovered Martin was missing some of his memories. Enjoy!

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><p>It had been a week since Martin had first woken from his coma after the battle with Tsarmina and Abbess Germaine had finally agreed that he could get out of bed and walk around a bit on his own. Gonff paced his friend within easy reach, trying not to wince at the way Martin concentrated so fiercely on his pawsteps. He should just be grateful Martin was recovering at all. Those first few hours, it hadn't been so certain the warrior mouse would ever wake up again.<p>

He had been far too close to the Gates of Dark Forest.

"I'm not going to collapse, Gonff. You can stop worrying."

"Huh?" Gonff blinked at his friend and grinned, a bit abashedly. He'd been trying not to show how concerned he still was for Martin's health. "Well, it's just that I don't want the Abbess or Columbine to blame _me_ if you fall on your face trying to do too much all at once. You're still recovering, remember matey?"

Martin rolled his eyes. "Aye, _matey,_" he returned, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I recall that very well." One paw drifted towards his stomach, where a particularly vicious slash of Tsarmina's claws had left a deep gash that had taken the better part of two days to start truly healing. Gonff moved closer to his friend, playfully bumping him with his shoulder – very gently, though, he was the Prince of Mousethieves, not the Prince of Fools.

"Hey, now, at least you didn't end up getting thrown into a pit full of mucky water and mouse-eating snakefishes. You got to fight next to a nice big, _clean_ lake. Well, mostly clean, I guess, there _were_ a lot of abandoned spears and arrows and the occasional stone from Kotir floating around in it… " Martin was staring at him, confusion written plainly on his face. Gonff frowned. "Matey? You okay?"

Martin blinked. "I…uh…yes. I just…snakefishes?"

"…during the journey to Salamandastron? The toad marshes?" Gonff cocked his head, worried and confused. "Don't you remember, Martin?"

Martin's confusion was starting to give way to slight panic. "I…that's just it, Gonff. I don't think I do."

* * *

><p>"Hold still, please, Martin. And try not to blink too much. I know that won't be easy, but try."<p>

Abbess Germaine carefully held up a small focusing glass, allowing it to direct and magnify the light of the candle Columbine held up for her. She shone the light into Martin's eyes. The recovering mouse narrowed his eyes slightly in reaction, but managed to refrain from the natural impulse to blink away from such bright light. The elderly mouse carefully watched the way his pupils reacted and then removed the glass as she motioned Columbine to set down the candle on the table once again.

"Well, there's nothing wrong there…now…tell me if anything hurts when I press on it."

"Of course," Martin replied, still blinking reactionary tears out of his eyes. His winces were answer enough when the Abbess pressed around his still healing wounds. She sat back with a deeply worried look on her face before standing and motioning for Martin to lean forward slightly. The wounded mouse's curiosity and concern got the better of him. "What are you looking for?"

The Abbess gently probed the area around his ears, feeling around Martin's skull. "I'm looking for a wound I may have missed, that would explain your memory loss, young warrior. You had so many when I arrived, it isn't impossible, but any missed that first night should have been found in the following days." She shook her head. "Nothing hurts?" she asked her patient. Martin shook his head very slightly, mindful of the paws still pressing around his ears. "Sometimes head wounds – if they are severe enough - may cause temporary memory loss, but I was certain that was the one injury you did _not_ have." She _hmm_-ed in her throat, finally standing back. "And it would seem I am still correct. None of the bones in your head are fractured. The worst you had were some rather nasty scrapes, and they've healed nicely by now."

"So why can't I remember the snakefish?" Martin asked, somewhat plaintively. Columbine sat next to her friend and took one of his paws in her own, smiling encouragingly at him.

"Maybe it was the trauma of the fight with Tsarmina, not a particular wound. You can't tell me that wasn't a very emotional fight. She's the one who broke your father's sword in the first place." Martin frowned, but nodded slightly, granting her the point. The young mousemaid looked to her mentor. "Couldn't that also be a cause of memory loss, Abbess?"

The elderly mouse sat back down, slowly nodding her head. "You are right, Columbine. That might very well be it. Great trauma, even if it is not physical, can sometimes cause memory loss."

Martin shook his head. "I'm not sure I understand, Abbess. How can something like that make a creature forget events in his own past?"

The elderly mouse smiled gently. "Columbine, dear? This is more your area of specialty than mine."

Columbine flushed as Martin blinked at her, confused. "It's not…it's just…Oh, Abbess, you know better than I do how a physical hurt can affect the body!"

The gentle laugh had Columbine throwing up her paws in frustration, releasing Martin's own in the process.

"Columbine, you are a wonderful healer already and quite accomplished. But you won't truly progress until you learn to take compliments on your own work with dignity and grace! I do know more about physical wounds than you, but _you _surpass _me_ at understanding injuries to the mind!"

The young mousemaid was still flushed, but she nodded at her mentor, accepting the gentle rebuke for what it was. "I'll try, Abbess." Columbine turned to the wounded warrior. "You know, Martin, that we left Loamhedge because of disease. But we had to travel for many seasons to get here. Along the way we've encountered many hardships, and I started noticing some of our creatures, especially the younger ones, were having trouble remembering Loamhedge, or somewhere we had just passed through. I have a theory – and while she may deny it, the Abbess helped me every step of the way! – about why."

Martin settled more comfortably onto his bed and listened attentively. If Columbine knew anything that could explain this unexpected memory loss, maybe they could find a way to fix it, too.

* * *

><p>Gonff tried not to sigh audibly in relief when he finally found Timballisto, stretched out at the base of a tree just far enough away from their makeshift camp at what had been Kotir to have some privacy. There was no reason to make anyone else worry over their warrior, when even the Abbess didn't know for sure what was going on to make Martin's memories a bit…off. And she and Columbine had pulled off a miracle a week ago, keeping Martin in the realm of the living long enough to make sure he would <em>stay <em>with them. Everyone deserved a bit of a break after all that.

"Timballisto!" he called, stomping down the faint twinge of regret he felt when the other mouse started violently, rolling to his paws in a crouch as if expecting someone to attack him. Gonff supposed he had been taking a nap, but this situation with Martin was far more urgent. "We need to talk."

Timballisto breathed out a slightly annoyed sounding huff and resettled himself at the base of the tree he had been napping under. "Yes?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but not worried. "Something happen, Gonff? Did Goody chase you away from her famous apple pie again?"

Gonff only wished that was all he had to talk about with Martin's oldest friend. "No. I was watching Martin for the Abbess, in case he stumbled trying to walk around."

Timballisto sat fully upright, his whole attention now focused on Gonff. "She let him get out of bed? I thought she wasn't going to give the go ahead until tomorrow."

Gonff waved off that concern. "Martin kept complaining about getting stiff, and the Abbess finally just made him promise to be careful and not try anything unless somebeast was there to help him. But that's not the issue. Martin…he…"

The former oar slave furrowed his brow, becoming worried. "Well? What happened? Was it too soon for him to be up and about?"

"No," Gonff said slowly. "He doesn't seem to be having problems with moving around. He's going slowly and he didn't stumble even once, but…Timbal, I think something's wrong with his memories."

Silence reigned for several long moments before Timballisto spoke. "Why would you think that?"

Gonff smiled without humor as he answered. "He can't seem to remember things that he _should_. Well, I assume it's more than just the snakefish, but I didn't stick around long enough to quiz him."

Timballisto rubbed a paw across his eyes, looking tired. "So…did he forget it? The…snakefish, is that what you called it?"

"Yeah. Snakefish is this giant eel we met in marshes between here and Salamandastron." Gonff sat next to the older mouse, shaking his head. "One of the creepiest creatures I've ever met, and not something I'll forget too soon!" He sighed. "I don't know why Martin doesn't remember it, though."

"Well, you know, some beasts just forget things, after being terribly wounded. It's some sort of defensive reaction, I think." Timballisto offered. "I know it's not something you've seen often in Mossflower. With the exception of the otters and Lady Amber's squirrels, you aren't warriors. I wouldn't be too worried; it'll come back to him later, likely."

Gonff locked gazes with the other mouse, more serious than Timballisto could ever remember the fun-loving thief being. "Timbal, if Martin can't remember something that happened such a short time ago, what else has he forgotten?"

It took the other mouse a minute, but the former oar slave felt his eyes widen as he realized what Gonff was implying. "He might not remember what happened after he left our tribe-"

"-and before he arrived here," Gonff finished, grim. "He didn't even want to tell _you_, Timbal. What if he's forgotten what happened then? Or just enough to be confused about what he does remember?"

"What if he asks someone who doesn't know he's hiding something?" Timballisto added, nodding in comprehension, before groaning and letting his head fall into his paws. "If he does…Gonff, no one should find out like that. If Martin chooses to speak about whatever it was, it should be because he _chose_ it, with the full understanding of what he'd be saying. And right now, we can't even be sure he remembers everything he didn't want to say!" The former oar slave shook himself, as if banishing the thought of such an occurrence, and looked back up at Gonff. "So. We need to decide how to handle this."

"Well," Gonff said, raising his paws helplessly, "I got the Abbess and Columbine to come look over Martin again, and then found you. I'm fresh out of ideas now, matey. I've never had to deal with this sort of thing before."

Timbal snorted. "Me either. But, I think the best thing to do would be to try and find out if he remembers anything of those seasons between the northland shore and here. But how to do it…?"

They sat in silence for several moments before Gonff perked up. "We know he's missing memories of things that happened a little while ago. So, shouldn't we figure out if he's missing older memories too?" He tilted his head, grinning slyly at the other mouse. "Maybe even his earliest memories?"

Timballisto smiled back at the other mouse, glad to have a starting point. "I suppose that means I have to do it. No one else knew Martin back then." He stood, dusting off his tunic. "I can help Martin figure out what he does remember and what he might be missing, but we still haven't decided how to handle it if he doesn't remember…well, whatever it was that he refuses to talk about."

Gonff shrugged and stood to match the other mouse. "I don't think there's a lot we can do, if he doesn't. It'll come back to him or not, like you said. Or maybe the Abbess and Columbine can help him there." He began walking back towards Martin's tent. "Maybe the best thing is just to let it be. If he remembers, he does. If he doesn't, well…" Gonff sighed. "He didn't seem to want to remember it anyway. Maybe this is better for him."

Timballisto frowned. "I'm not so sure it's better. Easier maybe, but that's all. Though, I think you're right about what we ought to do. If he remembers and wants to talk, that's fine. We'll talk. If he doesn't…" he shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, we just won't mention anything unless he brings it up first."

Gonff sighed and then shook himself. "Yeah, well, matey, come on! You've got to quiz him first or we'll never figure out anything!" The mousethief took off running and Timballisto cracked a small smile as he continued at his own pace. He glanced up to the bright blue sky and drew in a deep breath.

"Whatever he's forgotten, I just hope he remembers you, Luke. The sword is more his than it ever was yours, now. He shouldn't lose the connection his memories gave him as well."

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><p>"Wait. Wait. Just…wait a minute," Martin said, holding his paws up. "I don't understand. Why would I lose memories because of a fight, even if it was hard mentally as well as physically?" He looked up at the two healers, his expression a clear plea for an explanation that made sense to him. "I've been in difficult battles before, some more so than…" Martin paused, unsure of what he'd been about to say. He'd been in harder battles than the one with Tsarmina. Hadn't he? Why couldn't he recall it clearly? There had been another vermin army and…and something to do with his father's sword. Why the sword?<p>

"Martin?" Columbine prodded gently, bringing the warrior mouse back to the present. "Are you alright?"

Blinking and still trying to figure out what his father's sword had to do with a battle he could barely remember, Martin looked up. "Hmm?" Columbine's worried face jolted him back to his present, the hazy recollections fading into whatever recess had claimed his memories of the snakefish Gonff had mentioned. "Oh, Columbine. I'm fine…mostly," he added with a wry smile. She smiled back.

"You were saying?" she prompted him. "Something about other battles?"

Martin shook his head. "That's just it…I know I was in other battles before the one with Tsarmina. I have the scars to prove it! But…" The warrior frowned once again, his gaze going towards the sword, sheathed and leaning against the bed he sat on. "I can't seem to remember what caused them. Or even who else was in them." One paw reached out and clasped the hilt of the sword, though he didn't draw it. "And something about the sword, but I don't know what." His paw tightened on the hilt, frustration welling up within him. "Why can't I remember?"

Columbine exchanged a worried glance with her mentor, unsure of what to say to that. Apparently Martin's memory loss was greater than they had first been aware of. The tent flap opened before either one could say anything.

"Martin? Still in here, matey?" Gonff's voice preceded him into the tent and Martin managed to find a smile for his friend as he came in.

"Of course, Gonff. I'm not supposed to walk farther than five paces from the bed, remember?"

"What you're supposed to do has never stopped you before, Martin," a new voice joined in and a moment later Timballisto entered behind the mousethief. The former oar slave smiled at his younger friend. "What's this I hear about you forgetting things?"

Martin felt some of his tension leave him at the sight of his old friend. "I have no idea," he answered. "Columbine understands it better than I do. Something about the battle with Tsarmina…and traumatic experiences?"

Columbine inclined her head. "Close enough, "she agreed. "Great traumas, physical or otherwise, sometimes make the mind forget certain memories. Probably as a defense against whatever it was that caused the trauma."

Timballisto sat on the bed on Martin's unoccupied side, while Gonff appropriated a chair and dragged it over. "I've heard of warriors forgetting events surrounding particularly hard battles before, but not something so far before the battle." Timballisto gestured towards the mousethief, though he kept his eyes on Martin. "Gonff said something about the snakefish?"

Martin sighed, and nodded. "According to Gonff, that was during our journey to Salamandastron, but I can't remember it." The warrior frowned again, frustration clear on his face. "I've been trying, but I can't seem to remember anything about the marshes between here and Salamandastron at all."

Timballisto leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and paws clasped between them. "Well, I'm no healer, but wouldn't it help to know exactly what you do and don't remember?"

Abbess Germaine nodded. "Very astute, young mouse," she praised. "If we want to determine what has caused this memory loss in Martin, we will be greatly helped by knowing which memories he has lost."

Columbine took up the explanation. "The types of memories you lost, Martin, would tell us if it was something specific about your fight with Tsarmina that caused the loss. It could help us find a way to help you regain the memories."

Martin nodded, though he still looked confused. "But how are we going to know which memories I've lost? I can't remember them."

Gonff grinned cockily. "You could start by askin' the others that were there for it, matey." One paw waved at Timballisto. "You've even got Timbal here to tell you if your really early memories are there or not."

Martin looked over to Timbal, even more of the tension in his shoulders leaving him as he met his friend's steady gaze. Timbal leaned forward, looking between the wounded mouse next to him and the two healers. "I'll gladly help, but what is the best way to do this? Should I ask Martin questions, or should he just start talking about what he remembers?"

Columbine pursed her lips and looked to her mentor, who hummed thoughtfully for a few moments. "First," she said finally. "I believe it would be better if most of us left while you help Martin determine which of his earliest memories have been lost."

"Why's that, Abbess?" Gonff asked, curious and a bit disappointed at being left out.

Columbine smiled at him as she explained at a nod from her mentor. "Because sometimes memories come easier if there are fewer distractions around. Even having just you here, Gonff, with the two of them would confuse Martin."

"Confuse me?" Martin echoed, incredulous. "How?"

The Abbess hid a smile and a small giggle behind her paw and Columbine quickly turned her gaze away from Gonff's dumbfounded expression to keep her own composure. "Perhaps I should have said 'confuse Martin's mind,' instead," she acknowledged. "As I said, I still don't understand all of what causes memory loss. But Timbal is part of your tribe, your past. You haven't seen him since you left the northland and your mind will still associate him with that time in your life. Gonff you didn't meet until you arrived in Mossflower. Your present, basically. Having them both here while you try to recall your memories would make your mind try to recall two different sets of memories at the same time."

Martin nodded slowly. "I see. Because I'd try to remember events that happened with Timbal, and ones that occurred with Gonff, at the same time. I might mix something up."

"Exactly." Columbine clapped her paws together and stood. "You haven't eaten lunch yet, and you really should. Shall I go get something and you and Timbal can start trying to figure out what you remember?"

Martin and Timballisto exchanged looks and shrugged at the same time. "Sounds good to me," the former oar slave acknowledged, while Martin simply inclined his head. Columbine beamed and shooed Gonff out ahead of her, ignoring his protests. The Abbess stayed behind a moment longer.

"Regardless of what you do or do not accomplish today, Martin," she told him sternly, playfully waving a paw in front of his face. "I don't want you overexerting yourself. If you get tired, stop and come back to it after you rest. Understood, young mouse?"

"I understand, Abbess." Martin smiled at her. "Don't worry, I'll rest if I need to."

Timbal grinned and slung a careful arm around his friend's shoulders. "Exactly, and if he gets stubborn about it, I'll just tie him to the bed and have Columbine force feed him some of that special tea she threatened Gonff and me with last week."

The Abbess laughed as she left and Martin eyed his oldest friend slightly warily. "What special tea?"

Timbal just grinned.

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><p><strong>AN2**: Those of you who read my first Redwall one-shot might recall Columbine threatened to drug Timbal's and Gonff's tea with a drug that would make them sleep. That's what Timbal is referring to. XD

Most of the "theory" Columbine and the Abbess try to explain to Martin is a very simplified version of more complicated theories that I've studied before. I don't think Mr. Jacques ever had a set idea for how far along medicine was in his Redwall series, but most of it is very basic; herbs, poultices, and the like. The only other instance I found of a creature forgetting in a similar manner to Martin was in The Sable Quean. And even that wasn't exactly the same, as Diggs forgets his entire being and creates a new persona for himself. And it's "fixed" by someone belting him over the back of the head again. So I tried to keep the speculation on what causes memory loss to very basic things things that are observable without advanced instrumentation.

Hope you enjoyed the story, though, and Merry Christmas to everyone!


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